


falling dominoes (larry stylinson)

by xx1onedirection1xx



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No One Direction, Angst, Fluff, Funny, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Other, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-27 21:20:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20955074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xx1onedirection1xx/pseuds/xx1onedirection1xx
Summary: louis is lost and too thoughtful for his own good. he has his demons, more than most. but that's until he meets harry, and joins him on a road trip he's never experienced before, and probably will never experience again.[LARRY STYLINSON AU]





	1. prologue

you ever get the feeling that you’re floating? like your feet are floating, like gravity is nonexistent. the breeze on the nape of your neck spreads goosebumps down your arms and chills down your spine. your eyes are forming tears solely from the intense, hard-flowing breeze. your fingers are waving, shaking, and your upper-lip trembles. but none of it is from anxiety. it’s simply from the velocity of it all.  
for a second, you’re alone. it is your one body falling through the vastly downward space of it all.  
are you alone? the question loops through your mind, for what seems like either 20 seconds or 20 years.  
is anyone ever sure?


	2. chapter 1

_ Just do it, you wimp. No one really cares. _

Louis taps his fingers his thighs, his right foot tapping against the linoleum floor.

_ Who picks a pastel linoleum? What is this, 1975? _

Louis nibbles at his bottom lip.

_ Do you really have any room to judge? You’re not even getting money for working here. A drugstore. How pathetic is that? You’re forced to be here! _   
Well, no one is forced to do anything. Louis does realize his life has been a series of seemingly good but ultimately bad choices. It was President Dwight D. Eisenhower that once spoke about the theory. 

The “falling domino” principle, a term coined on April 7, 1954, was meant to be referring to communism in Indochina. Louis first read about it when he was in fifth grade, right when his blooming fascination for world history came about. Even then, he logically knew that this “domino effect” was about communism’s influence on the countries surrounding Indochina. 

But deep down, it sounded like his life. It sounded like, in theory, Eisenhower spoke of this theory, so by the time Louis was in fifth grade, Louis could have a sharper grasp of why his life was the way it was.

After reading about that theory, Louis repeated the phrase “ _ falling domino _ ” in his head. He disliked how there were seven letters in “falling” but only six letters in “domino”, but he did like the fact that the words he read were written in black and how there were two words. Black always meant an even number to him. 

These aren’t things he chooses to do, but things that help keep the remaining dominoes from falling. He isn’t at the last domino, but he has no clue how many dominoes other people have left standing. 

So if him “leveling” these idiosyncrasies in his brain help him, well then at least he isn’t hurting someone else.

That’s what he tells himself, anyway.

_ Get out of your head, Lou. Someone is staring at you. _

Louis pinches his thigh to awaken himself and looks up, his weird, tight smile crawling back on his slithery lips.

“Hi,” Louis says, intending to add something as shown through his vocal inflection. But the catch is: he doesn’t.

_ God Louis say something you can’t just end it like that _

Louis pinches his thigh again.   
“Hey, Lou.” Harry smiles warmly at him.

Louis holds his breath for a second, letting time pass to see if this moment’s even real.

Louis looks down to the pack of gum and the energy drink on the counter.

He sees Harry’s hand slide his ID over.

“And a pack of Pall Mall Menthols 100’s.” Harry asks, just as confident as before, “If you don’t mind.” 

Harry’s hand is unevenly tanned, and there’s one circle of pale skin between his thumb and his pointer finger.

_ Stop looking at his hand he’s gonna think you’re weird so stop that _

Louis clears his throat. “Sure thing.” He says, and bites his bottom lip three times before turning around to retrieve the pack from the wall of tobacco products.

He takes three mini steps toward the pack, because the floor is a pastel color and pastel things remind him of the number three. He feels his brain take a sigh of relief.

Louis can feel Harry’s eyes bore into his back. Louis rakes his teeth over his top lip, and taps his right foot three times, before turning back around.

Three mini steps back. Louis sets the pack on the counter, and scans everything.

Harry is still grinning at him, lightly, like he’s trying to break through the awkward.

Louis can sense this. Harry always does that, any time he comes in here. He comes in, routinely, three times every week. Four times, if he decides to stop in on Saturday night. Nonetheless, Louis will look up and see Harry push open the door around a quarter past 9, the sun still rising. 

He’s done this for as long as Louis has had to work here, since the beginning of summer. It’s now August, which anyone could tell since it’s always stuffy and humid along with the bright sky. 

And looking at the sweat forming on Harry’s upper lip, Harry knows this too. Louis bags Harry’s things and slides it over to him, a stern smile put back on his lips. “Here you go,” Louis mutters.

Harry grabs the bag and salutes to Louis. “Thanks Lou,”

Louis nods twice, then mutters: “See you soon.”

_ Oh my god Louis why did you say that _

_ It’s like you’re asking him to visit again, that’s creepy _

Harry winks as he walks out the door. The bells ring long after he’s down the sidewalk.


	3. chapter 2

Except for Harry, Louis hasn’t seen any of his old classmates since graduation (or, more specifically, graduation night). After graduation night, Louis has been quite busy making amends for what did go down on graduation night. 

Most of it was a blur that he normally wouldn't remember, but because it’s been recited to him countless times since June, Louis is painfully aware of everything that happened.

He’s not sure if Harry knows about it, since he’s pretty sure Harry wasn’t there for any of it.

So here Louis is, working a job for no money, a “volunteer” without purpose.

He likes calling it volunteering. He likes considering it an act of kindness towards the old couple that owns this convenience store. It helps Louis live with it.

Louis doesn’t like to consider himself a bad person. He doesn’t, because he thinks he has some good left in him. Life’s thrown him a few curve balls, but so what? Who hasn’t had curve balls thrown at them in their life?

In fact, Louis would shake hands with someone that’s curve-ball-less. He wonders what it would be like to go through life, scott-free.

Harry probably lives scott-free. Sure, there’s always rumors about people, and Louis tries his best to not believe him. He has fooled around with the idea that those rumors are real, but he changes his mind every time he sees Harry’s warm smile and hears him mutter “Lou”. The rumors he’s heard have never matched up with who Harry is.

Sometimes, Louis wonders what rumors are said about him. Of course, however, you have to be known to have rumors started about you, and Louis is probably the least memorable person in his class.

Louis wonders all of this on his walk home, right as the sun was going down and leaving a warm purple hue in the sky.

His walk home is always the favorite part of his day. It’s peaceful, since most people are back home for the night. There are flashes of light from the people that still haven’t reached their destination, but have every plan to do so.

It’s a nice stretch of mile, on the city sidewalk, the laundromats and all-night diners creating a fluorescent glow on the pavement. 

He always listens to music, usually something calm like Coldplay or Lorde. It helps transport him to his own little fake reality, his own world he conjured up in his mind. A world where Louis does better, acts better, is better.

It’s just a bit past 8, and while the walk is always nice, Louis can’t help but feel the exhaustion from working a 12 hour shift. The only plus side to this gig is that Louis can focus his energy just on this, since he doesn’t really have anything else going for him right now.

He doesn't ever talk about it (since his family never really asks), but he has no clue where he’s headed or what he wants to do. The stress of college applications made him emotionally black out last winter, and he ended up sending none in. His guidance counselor advised him otherwise, but Louis couldn’t bear to try and condense any “good” accomplishments or qualities of his. 

He couldn’t really come up with any. And no one asked him about it in school. He didn’t really have friends, but he had acquaintances he would sit with so he could distract himself from his overwhelming sense of loneliness. 

They were good to him, and since they knew him (to the best of their ability), they knew better than to ask about his future. Louis was just content with sitting there, nonverbaly making reactions to their conversations or a joke that was made. That was good for him. 

But they all had planned-out futures, and they all made plans for the summer. One was traveling down south to visit his grandparents, one was going on vacation overseas, and another was taking summer classes at a college inner-city. 

They tried to keep in contact with him, but Louis understood they all had their own things going on now, and he figured he wouldn't be missed too much if he faded himself out of their lives.

Meanwhile, Louis is just trying to get by, day after day, and not let the voice within him win. That alone can be a draining battle.

When Louis gets home, he notices the door is unlocked and unlatched. He sighs a breath of relief and walks in, waiting until he makes it up to his room before taking his shoes off and relaxing. Nobody is home, so Louis knows he can go through with his nightly routine, since no one is there to judge him for it.

He looks at himself in the mirror, seeing the reflection of him crumpled down on the edge of his bed, hair disheveled and sweaty.

He can feel the sweat drop down his face, and that’s when he sprung out of bed to start the routine.

_ It’s just sweat Louis it’s not a big deal _

_ People sweat and they don’t have to do the things you do _

_ People just deal with it _

_ Louis why can’t you just deal with it _


End file.
